He lifts his sinking head, and cries :
"Lo, yonder the fair water lies !"
Not gladder those old Greeks than he,
When first they saw 'the sea ! the sea !'
Alas, O Melleff, thou art mocked!
Those towers, that lake, those boats wave-rocked,
Those islands plumed with forests tall —
They are but empty phantoms all !
Would we with words that fancy cure ?
As well bid the young heart be sure
Life will not her fair promise keep.
But leave all eyes at last to weep !
Oh, 'tis not thus that we may learn
Our souls from vanity to turn ;
Each for himself must test the show,
And truth by stern experience know.
Oft must the desert-wanderer prove
The stately castle, verdant grove.
The clear, bright lake, the boundless sea,
To be a cruel mockery,
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